Eternal Equinox
by Just That Girl
Summary: Alice's tortured past. Her first vision, her newborn phase, her rebellious stage, her new family, and how she met her one true love. All the regular couples mentioned. Any reviews welcome. Rated T for her dark past, and eventually some crude humor.
1. The Beginning

**A/N: I have a weird sort of connection with the human Alice before she was changed. I do not believe Stephenie Meyer intended on her to be a crazy lunatic—just a girl who was misunderstood and somewhat a prisoner of her own mind. It was the events surrounding her that darkened her past. So, this is hopefully going to be a series of what I think, through the years, she was put through. Warning: Not for the weak hearted. Review!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the ever so wonderful Stephenie Meyer.**

* * *

Everything was still. Not even a mouse, as the Christmas rhyme went, could be heard from my dimly lit room. Ironically enough, it _was _the holidays in our household. The year was 1922, and I was determined to help my mother out in the kitchen.

The holly from the banisters mixed with my mother's scent; a daft perfume with a slight hint of nutmeg. I wanted to help her with the various chores; she had many things to do, and I thought myself old enough to finally be able to give a helping hand. My father found this rather unusual considering the rest of my family lazed around in the living room, doing all assortments of things that were unaccommodating.

"But Daddy, I want to help Momma!" I whined, when he told me to leave her alone. I couldn't help but form a blooming prejudice against my father; believing that women should be left in the kitchen and that no one should help them; it was their own duty as a wife. I believed otherwise, and I thought Momma always seemed frantic around the holidays. It wasn't fair that she had to run around making sure everything was perfect when we sat on our lazy bums and did nothing. She would worry about burning the turkey and just _had _to make sure her rum cakes were especially delicious. I wondered endlessly throughout the years if she did this to please herself or to satisfy Daddy. It wasn't until I hit puberty that I realized Daddy _forced _her to. I would lie awake on most nights, wondering if the painful screams from down the hall really _were _the ghosts that haunted our house like Daddy insisted; but sadly I was mistaken.

My father grimaced at me, not wanting me to make a wrong move. If I helped Momma she would surely be grateful. If I betrayed Daddy, well, he wouldn't be. I decided, after several indecisive minutes, that I would defy my father and help.

I took a turn around the corner, eyeing the room carefully for any trace of my father, and shushed my little brother quietly. He pleaded me with his little puppy dog eyes to inform me of what I was up to. He was the one brother I truly loved. He ran to me with his new teddy in hand, and I ruffled his dark hair. "It's nothing, Scotty, go play." He stared at me unconvincingly but soon grew tired of standing and went to lounge near the fireplace.

I continued my sneaky ways down the hallway towards the kitchen, avoiding the rest of my family by chance. I was only four foot seven at the time, barely able to see over the counter. But my attitude was highly determined; I could handle any chore she let on. When I entered, I took a good whiff of the kitchen, eyeing the traditional apple pie in the corner, the turkey cooking in the oven, and the freshly baked ginger bread cookies.

I turned around, surprised and flustered, barging right into my mother's apron. She chuckled lightly, hugging my shoulder. She was only five foot or so, able to hug me without a problem. She was needless to say, a pretty petite little thing. Her bobbed black hair tied back with a blue shiny ribbon, a figure flattering holiday dress, and her around-the-house slippers. They didn't really go with her outfit, so I stared down at them, bemused. She giggled again, pointing to another pair of perfect high heels hidden behind the counter. She whispered softly into my ear: "I slip those on when your father peeks in."

Part of me wanted to laugh to please her, but with every word, more and more, I hated my father. He did put a roof over our heads, but he never treated Momma right. Poor Momma couldn't even relax in her own house.

"Convenient." I stated. It really was, but still very unnecessary. I wanted so very much to tell Daddy how I felt, but I knew better. Momma laughed, turning away from me to fetch the silver ware. "Momma," I began hesitantly, causing her to flash her eyes at me warily. "Can I help?"

Those words in many normal households would have been described as a beautiful gesture, but apparently they were like a strike of a belt in our own. She closed the cabinet, holding the utensils stiffly. "Honey, I really don't think that's such a great idea…" She trailed off, briskly pacing to the table to arrange the items. They clinked together in haste as she ignored my pained face. "Momma, is it Daddy?"

She stopped in her tracks, as if in slow motion. She put down the rest and walked over to me. Her eyes never left my face. My poor Momma. "What you have to understand, sweetheart, is that the times are changing. It's rough on your father. You see, we were raised differently than you and your brothers. He means well, he really does." I stared at her worriedly; I bit my lip.

"It sounds more like your convincing yourself," I regretted the words as soon as I said them. My mother looked as if she'd been slapped—like after she's been with Daddy when he came home from his many late night "meetings".

"Get out!" She called suddenly, her chin wobbling slightly. I never had seen Momma yell, especially at me. "Momma—" I was going to apologize, I didn't mean for my words to take effect like that. Never like that. Before I knew it, I ended up with a red hand mark from my mother right on my cheek. My mother; the one lady in the world I trusted with my life, physically hurt me; slapped me straight on the chin.

"No! Alice, get out _now_," Needless to say, I left. I wanted to take everything back; rewind time to when I shared my opinion with Daddy. I wanted to cry, but I knew that would just alert questions from my troublesome and tattle tailing brothers.

It wasn't until I reached my room that it happened. Right on Christmas—right when my mother who I loved very much, hurt me like nothing else. It felt like a migraine—a splitting headache. My eyes stung, my emotions brewed, and it throbbed just to keep my feet on the ground. My head was faced down on my pillow, my nose smashed against the case.

I shrieked as loud as a banshee, then. It alerted the whole house—as if it was on fire. I heard my brothers shout various things and my mother ran straight into my room. I couldn't hear them at all. They were distant and fuzzy.

My eyes felt like they had been ripped or flipped over inside of my head, and I _saw_ things. I saw my father, heavily intoxicated, walking to the porch of my house. I heard the voices and the speech of him slurring his words together as he entered our home and slammed the door. Then I saw her. My mother, appalled at the very sight of him. She was against the wall, her breathing erratic and heavy as Daddy grabbed her and threw her against the ground. I saw worse things, violation, obscene and crude gestures, until finally her heart stopped beating.

I wanted to scream at the vision; the glory my bastard of a father represented on his face. Then at his look of terror when he realized what he'd done. I couldn't control any of it. I couldn't warn them, couldn't tell my father to stop. To yell "that's my Momma!"

It wasn't until my eyes felt sore, but my sight became less blurry, I noticed I _was _screaming those terrifying words. When I peered up, it was the person I wanted to see most. It was my mother.

"What are you screaming about, dear child? Alice!" My eyes popped open; it couldn't be. Could the dead possibly come back to life? But at that moment, I didn't care. "Momma, you're alright!" I breathed, embracing her close and blinking my eyes. Her scent was refreshing as ever. I saw from the doorway, my four brothers anxious faces. Especially poor Scotty's.

Just when I thought it was all a dream—an ever so realistic and torturous reverie, I heard the front door slam shut. I held my mother tighter. I didn't want to let go.

"Hush, honey. That was a big blow you just had. I'm sorry for the whole incident in the kitchen; something snapped and I just wasn't thinking. I do love you, baby." She gave me one last hug and stood up. I tried to jump after her, but my legs were shaking heavily and I was unable to move an inch.

I reached out for her arm, and pulled her back. She chimed a laugh. That one smile I would remember forever. "I'm just going to go check on your father, get some rest, my love."

I calmed myself. My dream couldn't possibly be a view into the future. So, I just tried to relax, coaxing myself to stay calm. It was just a dream…just a horrible dream. But it wasn't until I heard screaming, and then gasps of horror when I realized the truth. Scotty ran towards me, snuggling his head into my chest, sobbing in heart-breaking huffs.

"Momma's…Momma's…" I took a deep breath and hid my tear filled face into his dark shaggy hair. I finished the sentence for him. "Dead."

* * *

My eyes flew open like a window during a storm, tears filling my eyes back with a jolt. An electric volt whizzed throughout my spine and down to my tail bone. The feeling of electrocution mixed with complete and utter misery. I slowly lifted my head up from my chest, staring at the man standing over me.

He wore a light colored lab-coat and held a bunch of mix matched wires and gadgets connected to my arms, legs, and chest. My body created an x across the flat white table. How used to that, I was.

Soon, I knew, I would be back in the white room; the place for the last three years, I had been locked up and treated as an animal; a psychopath.

"Had enough for today, Alice?" He cocked his head to the side, feeling arrogant and important. I glared at him as if he were the murderer. "Yes." I admitted, my teeth grinding together.

"Do you still believe you _see _things before they happen?" His lip pulled up into a menacing grin; a challenge. I stood strong. "Yes."

I felt another pain instantly volt throughout my system; taking control and thrashing around. He stopped the machine. He motioned for several heavy weight recruits to carry me on the plain padded mattress and down the hall. They took my petite body and threw me on top. They strapped my arms and legs down as if I would escape; like I would be able to with the pain of electricity still running through my veins. Not to mention the emotional damage I went through once again.

They left me in my room; the white room. Where the edges were padded, and one single pillow without a case lay strewn across the floor. One single window with matching white bars left the view of the city. I was living like a mime; in a white box, no way to know if I was sitting on the ceiling or on the floor. It was all the same. Enough to make you crazy even if you weren't already.

For many years, however, until I was sixteen years old, I never knew there was a hidden mirror. A mirror painted white, so they could look in at my tortured soul. The soul they ruined themselves.

I thought for just a second, I could hear the man's voice echo throughout the walls; ringing with satisfaction. "Wrong answer."

**A/N: Should I continue? Please review.**


	2. A New Life

**A/N: Another one posted! Not many reviews on the first chapter, I posted at a busy time, I guess. I just love this plot line so I'm going to continue for my own satisfaction. But reviews would make me ecstatic—to find out you love it also would make my day! **

* * *

I was seventeen and treated like a monster. I knew I wasn't a lunatic, and I also knew I was being treated poor and unfairly. My every day routine would be to wake up from my nightmarish reveries; red puffy eyes from crying myself to sleep every night. Mope around my small white room that only made me more insane; then finally around noon I would receive a piece of bread and some water. It would be just enough so I wouldn't die from my many shocks. Around late evening, I would get my daily questioning, taunts, and electrocutions. Depending how accommodating I was, decided what level of torture I would be put through. Regardless of the pain, one fact kept me up all night. I didn't remember _why_ I was there.

I had been put through many shock treatments over the years; so many that they slowly eased my brain into thinking this was my life. The life I would live until my heart finally had enough. My looks remained soiled, my hair lacking color and volume, shedding more than what a disease would cause. My eyes were bloodshot _all _of the time, and I barely had a normal pattern of sleep. I was tired, for sure, but my brain kept me up. And to say I was thin would be an understatement. I wasn't normal, I knew, but I did nothing to harm anyone. Why were they doing this to me?

Some part of me knew I had a tortured past, but I never thought it would be dire enough for me to end up _here_. To be treated as if I killed millions; and what was with all of the questioning? They knew what I believed in. The power that, even though they didn't believe, I had.

My world spun every day, worse and worse. My mind effortlessly concluded after a while that maybe I _did _harm people. Was I really a monster?

Eventually I came to the point where I would talk to myself; try to fool myself into believing I would one day get out of that hell hole. It was pointless and unsettling but it gave me hope. However insignificant that hope may have been.

It wasn't until that one fateful day I found someone who believed me. Who talked to me like a normal human being; not like some mentally impaired child. He actually allowed me, sneaking me away from his higher sources, to take walks with him in the nearby park. He let me have real food; breathe in fresh air. And it wasn't until we reached outside into the beams of the warm sunshine that I truly saw him. He was absolutely gorgeous. He had medium length hair that feathered up in the cutest of ways. His eyes were a heartbreaking shade of gold, as soft as satin. He was so inhumanly beautiful that it hurt to imagine what _I _looked like.

He had skills of his own; I saw them with my own two eyes. Although, at first I did melt down into thinking I deserved to be in the asylum. Seeing something like that surely meant I was insane. Seeing him; his inhumanly stunning features certainly proved my theories. He was as fast as lightning; he would race back and forth through the park, wavering with me of how far he could go. I had a special bond with him. He was a very good friend. But that was it; a _friend_. I really didn't think he understood that. Hell, I didn't even understand it. Why would I not instantly love someone like him?

_He's not the one. You love him as a friend…not anything more; despite how fabulous he looks. _

My mind reminded me endlessly, every time things grew awkward; him breathing on my face, tucking my now-medium length hair behind my ear. He was my best friend; my single thing I looked forward to everyday. My black whole grew a little lighter during our every day walks. Eventually, everyday his eyes would turn back to his regular charcoal. The color his eyes turned every time he saw me locked up. He would swing me onto his back and almost _fly_ back toward the building I despised. His eyes, though, turned to the shade I hated. I detested seeing him like that. Almost to the point of hurting himself when he delivered me back to his boss. It physically hurt to see my only friend in so much pain.

* * *

On one of our everyday outings, we sat on the park bench, chatting until the light warned us we only had a few precious minutes more. He glared at the sky, as if it would suddenly turn back time. "I know," I answered his glower. "It pains me too. Literally." I laughed darkly at my attempt at humor. He didn't find it funny.

"Alice, I want to save you," He stated that day, gazing into my idyllic eyes. I giggled a little and tilted my head. "What do you mean? You can't just take me away; you would be locked up yourself, and I would end up back here. Everything would be even more of a mess. We've talked about this..." I went on, reminding him of how horrible that would be. Not seeing him every day.

"No," He cut me off roughly, his eyes turning darker—if even possible. "Alice, I've heard things. Heard things from my _friend_…another one of my _kind_ is coming." He huffed and swallowed hard. "Darling, he's coming for you."

My eyebrows ruffled in confusion. Why would he be coming for _me? _"Why?"

My tone seemed to displease him. It was too normal. Like if he was asking me to choose vanilla ice-cream over chocolate. He reached out to grab my hand, faster than humanly possible. "He's what we call a _tracker, _Alice. He has…er, an _interest _in you; in any humans, of course…but especially _you._"

My eyebrows released, my mouth opened slightly. I closed it tightly, grinding my teeth together. My eyes narrowed. "And once he tracks me down, I'm assuming he's not just going to chat, am I right?"

His eyes darkened. "Unfortunately,"

I convinced him to take me back; that it was just going to make matters worse to just take off with me. Inside, I knew one day it would come the time for me to end this life. Needless to say, it wasn't a good one. Why not end it as soon as possible? I wasn't afraid. Once I died, I would end up with a new life; glorious years with parents, family, and friends. People who I would grow to love; who would love me back.

Also, in that new life I would be out of my shameless white wrap. It was depressing to wear the same thing over and over again. I saw neighborhood ladies where chic bright dresses. Up-doing their hair, wearing high heels, and reddening their lips with makeup. I couldn't wait to live that life.

Right in the middle of my reverie, a very descriptive daydream about me and a marvelous maroon dress, my door flew open. Swiftly and quietly; but none the less, had the same effect, my dear friend sashayed his way in. "Alice, take my hand."

I stayed where I was; reluctantly resisting his offer. "No, we've talked about this. I'm ready for a new life…" I rambled on, him looking over his shoulders nervously; cursing violently to himself.

"What if I told you we could be together forever? That you would be able to move as fast as I can; to see from far distances, and hear conversations from miles away? Would you come with me?"

My jaw dropped; was he really saying these words? Was he offering me a new life? One away from diminutive rooms with washed out colors? A life away from shock treatments and evil guards; where I would never grow old…a life of beauty. I was astounded at the thought. I would be beautiful; the inhuman beauty that startled me every time I saw my stunning comrade.

"I'd say, how fast can we leave?" I laughed, shaking my head from side to side in disbelief. He grabbed my hand in relief and tossed me onto his rock hard back. I put away slight shivers as his freezing skin gripped mine.

Suddenly we were flying—or, almost. We were running as though we were; but something was off. He felt compelled, as if we were being chased by something. The thought struck me faster than any one of my shock treatments. _He _was coming. We were being chased by the vampire who thirsted for my blood; the one I was longing for. Why didn't I have a vision? _Because you were blocking him out, remember? _My mind reminded, growing annoyed. Instantly, my views changed entirely. I was scared for my life.

**A/N: Yikes! Ha. So, review if you like it. It would be absolutely amazing to know that someone out there likes the idea as much as I do. Plus, motivation is the key to success. The more reviews, the faster I will probably post. Please, also, pass the name around to your fellow twi-hards. More fans, the more inspiration.**

**Oh, and by the way, I do not remember if Stephenie Meyer mentioned the vampire's name; the one that liked Alice and all. So I artfully dodged any mentions of his name. Sly, eh? **


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